Mirror, Mirror
by Sheryl Nantus
Summary: Scully pauses to think for a bit about herself and where she's going.


All Characters copyright of TenThirteen Productions and Chris Carter. No infringement intended on any part... go ahead, take me to court...I'm using the insanity defence... heh, heh, heh... 

Comments, complaints and just plain talk to sheryl_martin@tvo.org 

Summary: G, V - Scully pauses to think for a bit about herself and where she has been and where she's going... 

Mirror, Mirrorby Sheryl Martin 

Closing the apartment door quietly behind her, Dana Scully tossed her briefcase on the couch and headed for the bedroom; ignoring the blinking light on her answering machine. 

Once inside the relative safety of the small room, she undressed methodically and carefully; hanging the light brown suit up in her closet to make sure she didn't have to get it cleaned too soon. Wrapping herself in a thick terrycloth robe, the petite woman stared at herself in the mirror hanging behind the closet door. 

Not bad looking for your age, Dana. Except for a few thousand worry lines on your face and dark circles under your eyes that never seem to disappear, you could pass for a teenager. 

She smiled at the silent lie. Well, an older teenager then. No less than twenty, to tell the truth. 

But the image refused to leave her; even when she tried to walk away from the mirror and couldn't. Because she just had to see how much she had changed in these last few years; from the last time she had really taken stock of herself and what she looked like. 

It was funny - here she was, a pathologist trained to scan the human body for all and any physical signs; to look for clues on the naked skin and make judgments based on those clues, and she had never trained that eye on herself. 

Frowning slightly, she crossed her arms and looked at the image in the mirror, her mind clicking into professional mode. 

Female, late twenties... well, maybe a few years each way. Red hair, cropped short but not too short to make her seem boyish. A freckle here and there; sneaking in from too much sun - though her skin had the pale colour of someone who hadn't had too much time in the sun at all. A few laugh lines around her eyes gave away too much. Letting her robe fall open, she continued the self-examination. 

Okay as far as the breasts went. With a silent chuckle she remembered when she had first started to "blossom" as her mother put it. She had been so annoyed that suddenly she couldn't swing the baseball bat the same way; or that her brothers weren't allowed to wrestle with her any more. Melissa had just stood off to one side and laughed at her protests; slyly commenting that there would be a time when she would be wrestling again, and not with her brothers. One of the last times they had been together she had even made a joke about Mulder; noting that Dana would have her work cut in for her if she had to take him down. 

Don't go there, Dana... don't go there... 

Not bad for her weight. She'd lost a few pounds here and there; no thanks to Mulder bringing in all those dammed sweet treats and then not even gaining an ounce himself. Bet he never worried about putting on the pounds. Not after that crack on the rock. 

Patting her stomach, Scully sighed and tried to remember the last time she had been swimming; jogging... not running from someone or something chasing after them. Mulder managed to get in his daily run and get to the office in time to cause enough trouble for her that she rarely got anywhere near the Bureau's gym; much less a relaxing night at home. Wonder if Mulder ever looked at himself in the mirror and checked himself. 

Don't go there either, Dana Katherine... 

Which is what this was going to be, dammit. No Mulder, no X Files, no FBI. Just her and a good book, maybe. Or time to catch up on the television shows she'd been vainly trying to keep track of. Anything but work. 

Doing her robe back up again, she trotted into the kitchen and put the lasagna into the oven. One good thing about working with Mulder - you made your meals a good week in advance since you never knew when you would be able to eat. Or want to. 

Humming a popular song, she went about setting out a proper place setting at the table. For one night at least she wasn't going to be eating on her lap; or out of any styrofoam containers that always leaked. With a smile she pulled down a crystal wine glass. Oh, yah - tonight she could have a nice drink without having to worry about driving or working or shooting anyone. 

At least it wasn't frozen orange juice in a vodka bottle. And Mulder knew better than that; and that woman... 

Don't go there, Dana... this is your night, not Mulder's... 

Opening the oven door, she peered in at the hot dish. Maybe she would get the phone message after all. 

Click. "Scully, it's Mulder. I know you just left the office, and I know that you wanted no one to bug you tonight, but..." His voice took on that impish tone she knew he knew she hated. "But I wanted to call and tell you to have a nice night. Alone. Without me bothering you." 

With a soft laugh she shook her head. Always getting in the last word, eh Mulder? 

Picking up the phone, she dialled his number. 

"Mulder..." 

"Thanks for calling to say that you weren't going to bother me tonight." 

"Gee, thanks Scully. I know how much you wanted to be by yourself tonight." He paused. "You are by yourself, right?" 

"Talk to you tomorrow, Mulder. 'Night." Chuckling to herself, she hung up on him. Let him sweat it out for a night. 

And why would he ask such a question? 

Don't go there... she told her inner voice to shut up; that it was enough already. Sheesh. Some people's consciences. 

The lasagna was ready, and a nice Chardonnay just topped off the meal nicely. The bottle gave her just enough of a buzz to let her know that she would sleep well tonight; without a hangover in the morning. Tossing the dishes into the sink, she turned off the television set and headed for her bedroom. 

As she climbed into her bed, a good hour before she usually hit the sack, Dana Scully smiled at the mirror reflecting her image back at her. And then she closed her eyes and went there. 

***********"You've become a world-class hopeless romantic.""Not hopeless... hopeful. A world-class hopeful romantic."Joan Wilder -- Romancing The Stone 


End file.
